


The Chateau d'If

by CaptainAzenor



Category: The Count of Monte Cristo - All Media Types
Genre: Attempted Suicide, Both Raoul and Valéry get frustrated with their job, Chateau d'If, Depression, Edmond is younger than in the book, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, He's around 16-17ish, Heavy Angst, Imprisonment, Lighthearted moments, Second guard is named Valéry, Set in the canon era of the 1800's, Suicidal Thoughts, The duties of a 19th century prison guard, The first guard is named Raoul, Wrongful Imprisonment, Yes Valéry is a male French name, emotional issues, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-10-10 07:50:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17421875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainAzenor/pseuds/CaptainAzenor
Summary: This work features a large collection of stories that pertain to Edmond's time in the Chateau d'If. Each story can be on its own, but they do form a bigger narrative and are in chronological order. Shortest chapters will probably be around 1000 to 2000 words. Some will be lighthearted and some will be very angsty. Features two prison guards as important characters, since they both serve as not only guards but caretakers to Edmond.This is book canon and headcanons, not referencing any movie or the Gankutsuou anime. POV will switch around, but most times it is from Edmond's POV. Both guards and Abbe Faria will get their own screentime, naturally. Since Edmond is younger than in the book (16 instead of 19 at the start), he will be a bit immature.





	1. Entering the Prison

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter will cover Edmond's trip to the prison and his entry of it. He meets his first guard, Raoul, and wonders about his situation. Afterward, Raoul thinks to himself as he tries to go back to sleep.

* * *

 

* * *

 

Edmond stared at the Chateau d'If, that infamous and grim fortress, as it loomed closer and closer. The boat slid across the dark waters, ever approaching the island. He had already tried to jump out of it, only to be grabbed by the gendarmes and restrained. He sat on the bench, slumped downward. One of the officers was pointing a gun at him as a clear warning. The thought crossed his mind to struggle, to resist and be shot. It seemed better than being brought to the fortress. The moment passed and he remained still on the bench.

The boat reached the dock. One of the gendarmes went to tie it up while the others pulled Edmond to his feet. The boat rocked a little as he stood and disembarked. Ahead, a stone staircase led up to the prison's gates. He was herded up the stairs, through the gates, and into the main courtyard. Soldiers made their rounds, the light from various torches gleaming off of the barrels of their muskets. One of his escorts knocked on the entrance doors.

A guard opened one, peering out. "A prisoner at this hour? It's almost ten o'clock!"

"It is late, but we have our orders."

"Let me see the papers, then," the guard muttered. The gendarme handed them over. After reading them, the guard said, "I'll get things ready." He closed the door.

They waited for several minutes. The two gendarmes holding onto him kept their grips tight. There was no need; Edmond was so overwhelmed that he couldn't move. About ten minutes later, the door opened again, much wider than before. The same guard gestured for them to hand Edmond over.

"Go, boy." The gendarme's statement was emphasized with a push.

Edmond entered the Chateau d'If. Another guard was standing in the antechamber. He had dark brown hair and amber eyes. His blue uniform coat was slightly mussed as if he had thrown it on in a hurry. It was likely that he had been sleeping and after being roused, had dressed quickly. A sword was sheathed at his left hip.

The first guard pointed to him. "Raoul, he's all yours. You finally got a prisoner assigned to you."

Nodding, the brunet man grabbed Edmond's arm and led him down a hallway lined with heavy wooden doors. One of them, the fifth door on the right, was ajar. The guard pulled it open all the way and brought him inside. The cell contained a cot with a straw-stuffed mattress, a rickety table, a stool, and a metal bucket in the corner for relieving himself. A barred window set into the back wall several feet above the bed let in the moonlight. It was fairly clean; there was no refuse on the floor that he could see in the dim light and the room only smelled of stone and mildew instead of waste. But a cell was a cell. 

The other guard came inside carrying a pitcher of water and an earthenware plate with a small loaf of bread. He carefully set them on the table and exited. Raoul let go of Edmond's arm. "It's late, so this is all that can be spared for you to eat tonight. In the morning, once he has seen your papers, the Governor may have you placed in a different cell. You have everything you need in here. Good night."

Edmond watched as the man walked out and closed the door. He heard the key in the lock and the bolt slide into place. The guard's footsteps vanished after a moment. Torchlight came in from the barred window set into the door, throwing shadows and streaks of light across the walls. Edmond keenly felt the silence, the darkness of the cell and the shock of being there. He should have gone to bed. It was late at night and he needed rest. But he couldn't force himself to take even one step towards the cot in the back. 

He remained in the center of the cell all night, sleepless. At some point, his legs could no longer hold him and he fell to his knees. Even that did not hurt as much as he thought, too occupied by his thoughts to really notice the pain of hitting the stone floor. 

_Why? Why is this happening to me? Everything was fine. I was happy. The Deputy Prosecutor said that I would be set free! What is this? I don't understand... I wonder how my father and Mercedes are doing... Are they worried? Have they started asking about me?_

 

* * *

 

It had been nearly a week since Raoul Monette had been paid. The previous prisoner that had been in his care had been transferred elsewhere for whatever reason. The prison provided barracks for the guards as well as meals, but if they wanted money to pay their taxes and buy other things, they needed to have at least one prisoner assigned to them. While he hadn't been pleased to be awoken at ten o'clock at night, he was glad that they had given him a source of income. 

He never had someone so youthful assigned to him before. The "young man" they had shoved in was really a boy. His crime was listed as treason, which seemed a little odd.  _Loyal Bonapartist my ass. The boy's too young to have any serious political views. What nonsense._ Even so, guilty or not, it was his duty to ensure the boy did not escape.  _Guard him, feed him, clean up after him... Keep him alive. All of those things sum up this job._

Tired, he threw off the various parts of his soldier's uniform and put his nightgown back on. He placed his sword belt on the side table and slid into bed, warm and inviting at the current hour. It didn't have a feather mattress or even a woolen one, but it was certainly more comfortable then what most of the prisoners got. Those in high social ranks, the merchants and nobles, could have a more luxurious imprisonment, but most people only received the basic cell and amenities. Which wasn't much. 

_The kid doesn't look like he comes from a wealthy background. His stay won't be pleasant. I might ask the Governor if I can have some leeway... Give him extra food, blankets and things like that. I doubt anyone would mind. Well, except for those who are very strict about enforcing the rules. I'll have to avoid Claude._

Prisons that did not house traitors, murderers and the like were typically more lax with their standards. The Chateau d'If was not a place like that. Political and religious detainees were housed there, along with a few murderers and madmen. Whether in a prison or in an asylum, those who had fallen to madness were usually treated poorly. He had heard enough horror stories about what happened to people sent to the various asylums. So he, along with other guards, always tried to treat the madmen with kindness. They didn't deserve to be lumped in with the traitors.

_Even if that boy is released, I doubt he's going to get a good job ever again. I love this country, but the penal code is brutally cruel to criminals trying to re-enter society. They are given no help, are shunned and denied decent jobs... Most end up committing more crimes just to survive. If they are caught three times, they are sent to the execution scaffold no matter what the crime was. I once witnessed the execution of a man who had been arrested three times for stealing to feed his wife and children. Now they're probably out on the streets, starving. If they're not already dead. So that kid's going to have a rough time if he ever gets out of here. But judging by what they charged him with, I doubt he's ever going to leave this place. Not alive, anyway._

Putting any further thoughts about his new prisoner out of his mind, Raoul eagerly went back to sleep. 


	2. First Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edmond awakens to a cold reality that he hoped had been a dream. He pleads with his guard to speak with the Governor and is denied. Raoul attempts to calm the boy in his care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter expands on Edmond's first full day in the prison, detailing his thoughts on certain things in a rather blunt, bratty and snarky manner. Raoul maintains his patience, ever the mature adult.

* * *

 

* * *

  

When the first light of dawn started to seep in through the window, Edmond blinked, turning his head towards the rays. He was still kneeling on the cold stone floor, having passed the night without any sleep. His legs had long since gone numb, circulation almost non-existent. Nothing had changed. He was still in a cell somewhere in the Chateau d'If. Footsteps came from outside the door, stopping in front of it. He heard the bolt sliding, the jingle of keys, and the click of the keyhole. 

The guard from the previous night, Raoul, entered the cell with a tray in one hand and the keyring in the other. He set the tray on the table, cautiously moving the plate and pitcher that had sat untouched all night. "You didn't eat."

Edmond shrugged helplessly from where he knelt on the floor. "I suppose not."

"Why are you on the floor? Did you sleep?"

"No." Edmond struggled to stand, pins and needles erupting in his legs. He fell forward, legs weak.

The guard caught him, directing him carefully to the cot. "Here, sit. As for your situation, you're not changing cells."

He collapsed onto the rickety bed. "Tired."

"I imagine so. You've been on the floor all night," the guard replied mildly. "Can I do anything for you?"

Edmond took a breath, gathering his thoughts. "I'd like to see the Governor."

"No. I'm afraid I can't do that."

"Why?" Edmond demanded, a whine in his voice.

Raoul gestured with a hand. "It's against the rules here." He picked up the plate of bread and started towards the door, brass keys jingling.

Edmond stretched his hand out in a clear entreaty for the man to wait, but it was in vain as the guard stepped over the threshold and shut the door. The bolt slid back and the key grated in its lock. Upset, he got up and ran to the door. "Wait! Why am I here? What crime have I committed!?" he shouted, pounding on it and peering out through the barred window.

"Eat your breakfast," came the response from the soldier.

"I want out!"

No reply was given to him. Raoul disappeared down the long hallway. Fuming, Edmond turned towards the table. His food consisted of a bowl of porridge and a hunk of bread. He sat on the stool and picked at it, disheartened. The porridge was tasteless and the bread was starting to become stale. He poured some water into the tin cup and sipped; the water was cold and refreshing. After he had eaten about half Edmond made his way to the corner, an urgent need to urinate driving the decision. 

His legs were still feeling weak, so he after he undressed he sat on the latrine bucket. The metal was cold. If he was being honest, Edmond found sitting to be much easier even though it made him different. Not that he let anyone know that about him. Relieving oneself was a private thing. When he was finished peeing he stood and pulled his clothes back up. He wasn't sure what the procedure for emptying it was. Would the guard take care of it? Or would he have to? If the guard did empty the bucket, how many times a day would he do so?

Sighing, he started to pace around the room, too stressed to sleep despite his exhaustion. A short time passed before the door opened again. He turned to face the guard. 

The man picked up the tray, eyeing the half-eaten meal. "Is that all? Are you done?"

"Yes," he answered bluntly. "Do I have to empty the bucket?"

Raoul shook his head. "No. That falls to me."

"How many times will you do so?"

"Once in the morning. You can request that I clean it other times if you feel it's necessary, though. Just as long as it's half-full or more."

Edmond nodded. "All right." He leaned against the wall, tired. 

Noticing, his keeper pointed to the cot. "Go lie down. Sleep for a bit. I will wake you at noon for your next meal."

Edmond walked over to it reluctantly. "I need to make an inquiry. This isn't right."

"Hush, boy. Rest." The man left the room and closed the door.

With a childish huff, Edmond took his shoes off and eased himself onto the gray blanket covering the bed. It didn't creak, which assured him that it wouldn't collapse. The straw-stuffed mattress wasn't exactly quality, but he had a similar bed at home. Straw was softer than hay, so at least it was useable. Most commoners had a straw mattress. Horsehair, cotton or wool were used by wealthier individuals or those who had saved enough. Feather mattresses were only for the rich, nobles, and royalty, and were typically placed atop a woolen mattress for support, as feathers were so soft that they didn't hold a person up well. Of course, Edmond had never slept on anything other than a straw one. 

The pillow was also stuffed with straw. The material was cheap and threadbare, most likely canvas or burlap. He lay his head upon it and closed his eyes.

 

* * *

  

Raoul ate his noon meal slowly, pleased to be out of the training yard for a break. When he was finished, he fetched the boy's lunch. After grabbing the required food and utensils he returned to the cell where his charge dwelled. Balancing the tray in his left hand, he unclipped the keyring from his belt and inserted one of the brass keys into the lock. Leaving it in for a brief second, Raoul drew the bolt back and opened the heavy wooden door. His charge was still asleep, lying on top of the blanket. 

"Food." He set it on the table.

The youth stirred, sitting up. "Mm?"

"Come eat."

The prisoner got up from the bed and came to the table. He looked at the soup and bread, frowning slightly. "That's _all_ I get?"

Raoul nodded, having received such a sentiment before from many other prisoners. "Yes. I am trying to arrange it so you get a little more."

"Hmph."

He sighed, trying to be patient. "I'm sorry, but this is a prison."

Crossing his arms, the boy said, "I shouldn't even be here!"

"That isn't up to me. Go eat."

His charge sat down and dipped the metal spoon into the soup. There were a few vegetables and bits of meat in the broth, but it certainly wasn't very hearty. Raoul could see the indignant expression on the child's face as he ate. He waited until the youth had finished before collecting the tray, leaving the pitcher of water and the cup that went with it. While food could be withheld or reduced to a certain point as punishment, prisoners were to have access to drinking water at all times.

Unfortunately, guards were allowed to discipline their prisoners as they saw fit for the most part, with beatings being encouraged. Sexual contact was obviously and completely forbidden, as there was _nothing_ that could excuse rape. Not to mention the illegality of two men together or the sheer wrongness of guards interacting in such a way with female inmates, even if there was no intercourse involved. Guards were also not allowed to starve prisoners to death. If such a thing occurred, the one responsible would be arrested for murder and put on military trial. Food could only be denied for three days. If a guard decided to reduce the amount as punishment, it was not to exceed a period of a week and a half. The inmate must also be fed at least once a day, and in an amount that did not go lower than two pieces of bread. 

Many guards claimed higher morality than the prisoners they looked after, but sometimes, many times, they were just as bad as those they beat, starved and scorned. The only difference being that they hadn't been caught doing anything illegal. Raoul was a more moral man than several of his fellows at the Chateau d'If. He wasn't inclined to use violence on prisoners in his care unless necessary. He shied away from the idea of striking the boy currently assigned to him; Edmond had a scrawny build despite being a sailor and seemed to be emotionally vulnerable in some way. 

 

* * *

  

Edmond spent the rest of the day pacing, trying to decide what to do about his situation. He glanced out the back window; the sun was setting, sending streaks of red light through the barred opening, coloring the floor. His door swung open.

Raoul set his dinner on the table. The fare was simple: soup, bread and a plate with stringy pieces of chicken on it. He made no verbal complaints and went to eat. When he was finished, he handed the tray back. "What now?" he demanded.

"Go to bed early. You need the rest."

Edmond glanced towards the cot. "It isn't much better than the floor," he scoffed dryly. It was a bit of an exaggeration on his part; the bed was poor quality, but certainly better than the floor or a pile of straw or hay upon it. 

Keeping his tone even, Raoul said, "It could be worse. Much worse." He made a shooing motion. "Go on."

Edmond moved across the floor, getting into bed with a cursory look at the gray blanket. It was thin but there were no holes or patches. He pulled it over himself, looking longingly at the door. Raoul headed towards it. "Sleep well, boy." He left and the door closed with a soft thud and two clicks.

After the footsteps were gone, Edmond let out a ragged breath, unable to hold back his distress any longer. Moonlight filtered in through the window while light from the torches in the hall came in through the one in the door and the space underneath it. "I still don't understand why I'm here..." he whispered into the uncaring dark.

Surely they would realize it was a mistake. He was innocent of crime, promised freedom by the Deputy Crown Prosecutor. His father must be petitioning for him, asking questions, wondering why no one had followed through on the release. It was drafty and cool; Edmond drew the blanket tighter around himself. His tears sparkled in the faint light, silvery from the moon outside. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes, Raoul's job does involve cleaning up after Edmond. Dumping out chamber pots/buckets was soooo common in this time period and also really gross, as I'm sure you can imagine. He'll clean up in the morning unless Edmond whines about the smell or is having one of those days where he's using the bathroom a lot. 
> 
> I'm not going to write any kind of physical or sexual abuse. Nope nope nope. Other guards may beat, whip, starve or (rarely if ever/at all) sexually assault their prisoners (they'd have to be very depraved), but not Raoul. The most he'll do is shout or lock Edmond in the dungeon (which is still a pretty nasty punishment by today's standards 0_0). If significantly annoyed, he may slap or punch Edmond, but nothing too graphic. There is no mention of outright abuse in the book (hate the movie for demonizing the Governor and guards, like wtf).
> 
> Some of my headcanons will definitely feature here and I will also be fiddling with the layout of the prison itself.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that anyone reading this has enjoyed the chapter. There will be more to come.


End file.
